:: Friday

So here's the scoop. Friday I live and die. Live. and. die. I wake up dead and come alive to do whatever in the whole world I need to do. I do it and I do it well. On Friday you can't stop me. If I work an 11 hour day without more than a ten minute break, I will live, just fine. and when I have little to do, that's cool, it's Friday, I die tonight.

People joke to me about what I'm going to do Friday after work. Friday night. The answer, always, 22. I have gone to the Cafe 22 every Friday since I've known about it for close to a year and change. I have missed 4 Friday's that I know of and probably 1 or two more I've forgotten. (Monday's and here-and-there days don't count... Friday I'm in love). So I've gone a lot and I've met many people there including my entire contingent of friends outside of work. Some real cool people and one or two real fucks. Mostly cool.

But every Friday has to end and I'm left walking home alone. Cold. Angry. Drunk. Sedated. Enraged. Happy. Growling.

Everything I think and want all week is never fully delivered. It is tough to actually say what I want from my friends, from myself, from strangers. From the world via the 3 televisions they have hanging from their ceiling.... I think what I want is love and friendship. I'd accept simple change but refuse romance. If I wanted true romance I'd move to Detroit. But to have someone close. Someone who with a smile, frown, or fart can make your day. That's gold.

I'd love to say I'm still looking but I keep my eyes shut. You're not where I want to meet you. I'm not who you'd want to meet while we're here. I'll open my eyes when the sun goes down if you'd open your eyes once a week to see a day end. You might catch me smiling.

Oh well, living hoping someone or something else will help you end your day is bologna. Just deal with it and drink some water.

Everyday ends